New York (VINnews/Ezra Friedlander) – If you did not register and vote, you did not merely stay home.

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You voted against your own community.

That may sound harsh. It is supposed to sound harsh. Because at some point, a community has to stop comforting itself with excuses and face reality.

Politics does not count opinions. It counts votes.

It does not count who was upset at kiddush. It counts who showed up at the polls.

It does not count the man who had a whole speech in shul, the woman who forwarded every article, the businessman who explained what is happening to New York, or the yungerman who knew every detail about every policy being pushed by the left.

It counts ballots.

For years, I have been saying the same thing: register to vote. Vote in primaries. Know your district. Know your party enrollment. Understand that in New York, the primary is often the election that matters most.

I said it until I sounded like a broken record.

And still, too many people treated voting like something extra. Something for askanim. Something for activists. Something for people who “get involved.”

Now New York is changing, and everyone wants to know how it happened.

It happened because other people voted for their future, and too many of us did not vote for ours.

We have become experts at talking about politics.

Experts at discussing Mamdani. Experts at explaining the danger. Experts at saying what the left wants. Experts at reading every post, watching every clip, forwarding every voice note, and repeating every analysis.

But while we were talking, they were organizing.

They were registering voters. They were building lists. They were calling their people. They were knocking on doors. They were treating the primary like it mattered.

They do not share our agenda. They do not share our concerns. They do not look at yeshivas, public safety, antisemitism, Israel, business, housing, taxes, or religious freedom the way we do.

But they understand power.

And power comes from votes.

We ask how politicians who were friendly to our community for years could suddenly move away from us.

The answer is uncomfortable.

They followed the votes.

Coming to Boro Park for a picture does not elect anyone. Visiting a mosad does not elect anyone. Shaking hands, saying nice words, attending an event, and eating kugel with community leaders does not elect anyone.

Votes elect people.

Turnout creates influence.

Numbers create fear.

If other groups deliver more votes, their priorities become harder to ignore. If activists can produce turnout, elected officials listen. If our community cannot prove that it shows up, then our concerns become easy to praise in private and abandon in public.

That is not betrayal.

That is politics.

We think we have power because we have large families, shuls, mosdos, schools, businesses, and neighborhoods. And yes, we have enormous potential power.

But potential power is not actual power.

We have only as much political power as the votes we deliver.

If we voted in serious numbers, it would not guarantee that every candidate we support would win. No one should pretend politics is that simple.

But we would be a force to reckon with.

Politicians would think twice before backing policies we oppose. Candidates would understand that ignoring us has a cost. Parties would know that our community cannot be taken for granted.

Respect gets you a photo.

Votes get you leverage.

And this is where the excuses collapse.

There was no time to register.

No time to vote.

No time to check enrollment.

No time to remind the family.

No time to make sure eligible sons and daughters were registered.

No time to ask the yeshivas, seminaries, schools, shuls, and community organizations why this was not being treated seriously.

But somehow, there was time for everything else.

Time for simchas.

Time for business.

Time for kiddush.

Time to read every post about Mamdani.

Time to watch every clip.

Time to forward every voice note.

Time to discuss every headline.

Time to complain about where New York is going.

There was time for worry, outrage, analysis, and commentary.

There was just no time for the one thing that counted.

That is not a time problem.

That is a priority problem.

Every eligible young man should be registered. Every eligible young woman should be registered. Every family should know who in the house can vote. Every shul should know the deadlines. Every yeshiva, seminary, school, and community institution should understand that civic responsibility is not someone else’s job.

We know how to organize when something matters.

We can fill halls. We can raise money. We can arrange buses. We can create committees. We can respond to a crisis overnight.

So let us not pretend voter registration is beyond us.

It is not beyond us.

We simply have not treated it as urgent enough.

And now we are seeing the price.

When you do not vote, you are not neutral.

When you are not registered, you empower those who are.

When you skip the primary, you strengthen the voters who understand that the primary matters.

So do not say, “I did not vote for him.”

Maybe not.

But did you vote against him?

Did your family vote?

Did your block vote?

Did your shul understand what was at stake?

Did your school community take registration seriously?

Did you act when it still mattered, or did you become concerned only after the result?

That is the man in the mirror.

A community that votes is heard.

A community that does not vote can have all the concerns in the world and still be ignored.

No more pretending that complaints are influence.

No more treating elections like someone else’s job.

No more discovering the importance of politics after the votes are counted.

If we care about yeshivas, safety, antisemitism, Israel, business, housing, taxes, religious freedom, and the future of New York, then we must vote like we care.

Before the deadline.

Before the primary.

Before the result.

Before the complaint.

So don’t blame Mamdani first.

Don’t blame the left first.

Don’t blame the askanim first.

Look at the man in the mirror.

Ask whether he voted.

Ask whether his family voted.

Ask whether he helped register the eligible young men and women in his home, school, shul, business, and community.

Because when you do not register and vote, you are not just sitting out.

You are voting against your community.

You are allowing others to choose the future your children will have to live with.

A vote is a vote.

And when you do not vote, you are voting for whoever wins without you.

The primary is over. Now we must work with those in power.

Looking forward to hearing wining about why are you working/meeting with so and so! How dare you? How can you?

Look in the mirror and answer the question yourself.

Ezra Friedlander is CEO of The Friedlander Group